Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘sunset’

Winter Drive by Margaret Simon

I took this photo from my car window last Saturday as I drove home from Mississippi, from visiting my mom. As I drove farther west, the sun played peek-a-boo in and out of the clouds. I have so many mixed feelings while driving these flat Louisiana country roads. Longing for home while my mother tugs at my heart strings. I have this difficult feeling that I may not see her again mixed with the joy of being with her. She still knows me as someone she loves. Her face brightens when I walk in the room. While I was there, she ate her whole lunch.

Often I find solace in nature, that somehow the natural world knows how I feel and gives me something to hold onto. On this day, it was the setting sun sending rays out from behind the gray clouds.

For our time together writing about a photo, I like to turn to form. Form can give me comfort, too. A safe space to hold my emotions. Today I chose the nonet, nine lines in which each line reduces by one word, beginning with nine. I like how the form looks like a setting sun.

As the sun melts slowly on the horizon, remember
your heart is a safe place for love,
where even on the coldest winter days,
you know you are a child
playing peek-a-boo with the sun.
Memories of happy smiles
fade and lift
an inevitable
horizon.
Margaret Simon, draft

I hope your winter days are giving you some time and space for writing. Please leave a small poem, form or free verse, in the comments. Encourage other writers with your responses.

Read Full Post »

Inspired by Molly Hogan’s post, “Diary of a Maine Spring,” I am finishing the Slice of Life March Challenge with a diary of a sunset paddle on the Bayou Teche. I’ve lived almost twenty years on this bayou named “Teche” (tesh) for the Native American word for snake. Not so named because there are snakes (there are), but because of its winding shape.

With our busy lives, work, school, activities, dancing, grandchildren, we don’t paddle our backyard as often as we “should”. Saturday offered us a window of time and a perfect weather day, low 70’s and clear skies.

My husband steers the canoe. I sit in the front and paddle most of the time. He allows me, encourages me rather, to stop and take photos. He even pulled the boat closer to the shore to take a photo of the white spider lily which is blooming now. I’m glad you can’t smell the huge dead garfish that was also on the bank caught up in cypress knees.

I nurtured my inner peace (One Little Word ’24) for a few hours of the evening. I let go of all and let God show me Creation at its most beautiful. An Easter vigil, of sorts. A perfect end of a perfect spring day. A sure sign of resurrection and life.

Read Full Post »

While I was in Ohio for NCTE, my husband sent me this photo of a harvested sugarcane field under an awe-inspiring sunset. He described it to me this morning, “It covered the whole world!” Ethical ELA held its Open Write this week. Kim Johnson prompted us to write a poem using Ada Limón’s poem Give Me This. I wrote a golden shovel about this photo using a striking line: “Why am I not allowed delight?”

So many sunset photos, I wonder why

attraction to orange, pink, purple sky is what I am

with you. Loving this mirror–I

with you, noticing. We are not

the same, yet we’re always allowed

a sunset delight.

Margaret Simon, after Ada Limón

I invite you to write an ekphrastic poem about this photo. Imagine the bigness of the sky, the awe-inspiring sunset, a field of brown…wherever the muse takes you. I hope you take a moment away from your Thanksgiving preparations to write. Come back if you can to comment on others’ poems with encouraging words. Most of all, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

Read Full Post »

In her weekly newsletter, Maggie Smith asked the question, “What can a poem do?” Her conclusion is a poem can remind us of us, of who we are as humanity. We need poems now as much as ever. When times are hard, look to the sky and see poetry.

Last weekend while my husband was driving us home one evening, we saw the sky light up at sunset with this amazing cloud formation that disappeared into the night within minutes. I rolled down the window to take the picture. I saw an octopus. What do you see?

Octopus sky by Margaret Simon

Oh, octopus, octopus of the sky,
what do you see as you pass by?
A world of creatures down below
Chasing time and on the go.

Oh octopus, octopus of the sky,
what wisdom lies in your eyes?
I stop to watch your tendril glow,
breathe in deep, heart beats slow.

Margaret Simon, draft

Take a minute to breathe and see what you may see. Use your imagination to tell a story with a poem. Respond to others who are writing vulnerably today. Encourage with your comments.

Read Full Post »

I can’t resist a good sunset photo. I don’t think I’m alone in this. A brightly colored sunset reminds us that things will be alright. I saw this wonderful photo on Mary Howard’s Facebook. She often posts sunsets from her new home in Hawaii, but this one is from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. She happily granted permission for me to use it.

 “I was in Myrtle Beach SC for a SERRRA presentation. Each night I’d walked the beach to get sunset photos. On this day I noticed that I could actually walk under this and it made for a perfect photo. I’m learning to pay attention to my gut!” Mary Howard

Please post a small poem in the comments and support other writers with encouraging responses. I will be posting my own poem later today.

Sun reluctantly sets
in golden glow
sending us a message
of hope.

Margaret Simon, draft

Read Full Post »

This week’s photo is from my student Brayden. Over the weekend I got a text from his mom. First came the photo. Then she wrote, “Brayden took this picture and wants to write a poem about it.”

I think my eyes welled up. I won’t go into the whole history of Brayden for privacy’s sake, but this felt like a turning point to me, not only in his writing life, but also in his relationship with me (and all things School). What teacher wouldn’t want a student to look at a beautiful sunset and think about poetry? It’s a first for me.

Sunset glow
Traffic flow
I hope you know
I’m coming home.

Margaret Simon, draft

Please leave a small poem in the comments. Try to respond with encouragement to other writers.

Read Full Post »